


Whatever.

by Pixel_Illusion



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Mentions of Suicide, Post-Undertale Neutral Route, Post-Undertale Neutral Route - Exiled Queen Ending, Spoilers - Undertale Neutral Route, Suicidal Thoughts, Undertale Neutral Route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22599946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixel_Illusion/pseuds/Pixel_Illusion
Summary: Nothing even matters anyway, he thinks as he plods around the room, trying to find a sufficient writing utensil to add to the tally marks in his notebook. It’s all going to be reset anyway, so whatever. Don’t need to do work, don’t need to pay off your tab at Grillby’s, it would not even matter if he just didn’t show up to the human at all. If something happens, he’ll find a way to deal with, to get used to the consequences. If he doesn’t find a way to cope with the consequences, he’ll deal with the consequences of not being able to deal with the consequences.Not for the first time, Sans thinks what would happen if he were to encounter Undyne in one of the Queen Toriel timelines. She’d probably shout at him, call him a coward, blame him for not stopping the human earlier. She doesn’t know what he does, she doesn’t know that it never matters what you do, if something’s already happening it will happen and you can’t stop it. The only thing you can be useful for is picking up the pieces after everything inevitably goes wrong. And making sure it doesn’t happen next time.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26





	Whatever.

**Author's Note:**

> Trying to write something that is not in the second person point of view. Tell me what you think, please!

Another neutral run. Sans knows this as he watches the child step into the golden hall, a burnt frying pan clutched in two hands and a stoic, yet determined expression on their face. To his mild surprise, they’ve got a frilly tutu, faded and torn from the fate its last owner met, equipped rather than the apron he remembers them wearing in other timelines. Does the apron not offer better defence than the tutu? Well, not many monsters in New Home are keen on fighting, so he reckons they probably changed into the tutu after their fight with Mettaton. Frisk has always liked these kinds of pretty things, even though more often than not, they serve little to no purpose.

Through the blinding rays of the sun, he can see that their face shows no surprise as they see him appear from behind a pillar. Of course it doesn’t; they’ve gotten used to his sudden appearances and antics over the course of many different timelines. Idly, Sans wonders how many they’ve all been through now. With each new run, he makes a record in a little notebook of his. At first, Sans had written down every little detail, every minor divergence in meticulous detail because somewhere in the back of his mind, he still held onto a hope that all of this mess could come to an end.

How naïve he was, like a blind, stumbling sheep who only ever can listen to the shepherd that guides him.

Like everything else, his careful note-taking habits eroded away with time. Now, he barely does anything other than add a tally mark to the back pages of the notebook and scribble down the names of whoever the child killed.

Said anomaly stares at him with squinted eyes, some parts curious and some parts impatient. Belatedly, Sans realises he’s been silent for far too long.

He starts speaking.

While he monologues, he lets his mind drift. Who did they kill this time? He can’t really remember, mostly because he slept and looked at memes the whole time he wasn’t meant to make an appearance in their journey. Not Undyne, because he’s just received a very angry, bordering on hysterical voice message demanding he drag his lazy arse to work. Not Mettaton, either; the LV he can feel in their SOUL is not fresh enough to be that recent. The lady behind the ruins door? It’s a possibility, but Sans cannot be certain it was her because he neglected to check the door in favour of taking an unnecessary nap.

Wait.

(He finishes his speech then, and disappears into the pillars under the anomaly’s scrutinising gaze. Did he give the wrong speech again? No, he even double checked to make sure he had the right one. Must’ve forgotten something. But what?)

He lets himself slump against the column and slide to the tiled floor. Not even caring to check that Frisk is gone before beginning to mumble to himself. _He didn’t check the door because he was napping._ He always checked the door, always had time to because his brother would drag him to the sentry station and lecture about how even though the human was way past Snowdin now he still had to do his job, and then he’d slink off to the door and chat with Door Lady if she was alive.

Maybe he just forgot, Sans tries to convince himself. The human probably killed a Snowdrake or an Ice Cap or something and that’s why they have LOVE in their soul. (He’s not gonna think about how a few of the more common monsters could not have given them this exact amount of EXP). He pushes himself onto clumsy feet, stumbles through a shortcut to the first room in Waterfall and begins the trudge to Snowdin town with hopelessness curling his shoulders forward and weighing in his chest.

Sure enough, there is a vibrant swathe of crimson in the blinding white snow.

~

Toriel’s howling laughter fills the throne room, echoing and reverberating back and forth. Sans leans back in his chair, tilting his face up to the sunlight peeking through the cave ceiling. It’s nice to see her so stress free, especially in a time like this, when everyone’s walking around like grandma just died (And maybe she did). Monsters are beings of happiness, love and all that other optimistic rubbish, so it’s always just _slightly_ jarring to see how defeated everyone is when the human leaves and takes a monster or two with them.

Too soon, the sound of armoured footsteps approaches the door to the throne room. He feels his eyes fizz out, and discreetly shortcuts to a shadowed corner of the room, where one of the huge, golden ornate doors makes for a perfect shield. In other words, he hides, because when confronted with a problem the only trick he knows is to run away.

From here, he can see all the wilting flowers, the covered throne in the back, even the cave walls of the room just before the barrier. He can also see a very irate Captain of the Royal Guard stomping her way towards the queen, whose laughter has dissolved and is now watching the knight with apprehensive eyes.

Undyne’s ponytail seems to swish in a breeze he cannot touch or feel. This is a regular sight, but now her scarlet waterfall of hair has a little dancing partner; his brother, her apprentice’s scarf sways in the non-existent wind in a cheerful way, contrasting the electrifyingly tense atmosphere.

The captain grits out a greeting that almost sounds polite, but her tone is far to biting and even without seeing her face, Sans can hear the sneer in her voice. This room is arguably the airiest place in the entire underground, but now its inhabitants feel as if they are crushed under all the layers of the earth and the weight of the sky, the sun, the moon. He flattens himself against the vine-ridden wall of the room. Toriel is trying to be polite and sweet, her voice sounding extremely saccharine, especially when compared to the captain’s animalistic snarl. It’s feeling rather like squeezing a balloon in your hand; apprehensive of the balloon popping, hesitating when putting too much pressure on it…

(Undyne’s voice rises to a shout, something about what does she know about loss, and she leaves the queen with her paw still outstretched and words just about to leave her mouth.)

Until suddenly, the balloon pops in your hand and your ears are left ringing and you’re stuck for a moment just gaping.

The queen seems to crumple, folding and twisting her paws in her lap as she struggles to contain the tears of frustration in her eyes. He doesn’t know how to comfort someone. It’s always his sibling who does the emotional support. All he knows to do is play pranks and be snarky in exactly the wrong place and the wrong time. He spins on his heel, and he is in a house that’s too empty because the only light in it has died and is never to return.

~

Nothing even matters anyway, he thinks as he plods around the house, trying to find a sufficient writing utensil to add to the tally marks in his notebook. It’s all going to be reset anyway, so whatever. Don’t need to do work, don’t need to pay off your tab at Grillby’s, it would not even matter if he just _didn’t show up_ to the human at all. If something happens, he’ll find a way to deal with it, to get used to the consequences. If he doesn’t find a way to cope with the consequences, he’ll just have to deal with the consequences of not being able to deal with the consequences. If he can’t do _that_ , well, he’s pretty sure anyone can guess what he’s about to say. Or think.

Not for the first time, Sans thinks what would happen if he were to encounter Undyne in one of the Queen Toriel timelines. She’d probably shout at him, call him a coward, blame him for not stopping the human earlier. She doesn’t know what he does, she doesn’t know that it never matters what you do, if something’s already happening it will happen and you can’t stop it. The only thing you can be useful for is picking up the pieces after everything inevitably goes wrong. And making sure it doesn’t happen next time.

(This is the exact reason why he tries to befriend Frisk. If their view of him is favourable, then maybe they’ll have a little more mercy next time. That hypothesis has not really been proven yet, but it’s basically the only thing he can do.)

But Undyne doesn’t know that, and she’ll still blame him. It matters very little anyway. Sans is fine with being called the worst because it’s true, he’s incompetent.

~

(Why has he not gone and kicked the bucket yet?

Everything would just be so much easier on him if he went and offed himself.

So if that’s the case, why is he not doing it?

It’s because he is a coward who fears death or pain or both of those things and cannot do anything, is it not?)

~

The wind is blowing away the dust, and soon there’ll be none left for a funeral. Sans doesn’t care. He should, but he does not. He stopped caring long ago.

Undyne will come sometime soon, she’s gonna have an even more negative view of him when she sees that he’s not even bothered to collect his only family’s dust.

He doesn’t care. He will find some way to cope, and nothing matters in the end anyway.

For the first time, Sans doesn’t shortcut away in time to avoid her. She drags him from where he’d fallen over in the snow, holds him up by the hood of his sweatshirt, makes demands that fall on deaf ears, she rages.

He tells her exactly what he’s been thinking for the past Asgore-knows-how-many timelines.

Whatever, whatever, whatever. I’m fine with being scum for all my life, _whatever_.

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me if I'm missing anything, like tags I need to add, if a scene is not detailed enough or other things like that. Constructive criticism is always appreciated, comments and kudos as well! (Also, I was not able to come up with a very creative title. Help in that regard would be very much appreciated!)
> 
> Other than that, have a lovely day, and if your day has not been very good, I hope it gets better. Thank you for reading!


End file.
